


Second-hand

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Ficlet, M/M, Partial Nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 04:09:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3636165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bard enjoys the sight of Fíli in his bed and clothes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Second-hand

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon’s “Some Bard's point of view in seeing Fíli wearing his shirt. He loves how the garment engulfs Fíli's small body completely” prompt on [The Hobbit Kink Meme](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/10731.html?thread=21685483#t21685483).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

The floor in the kitchen’s ice cold, like it is everywhere at this time of year. At least it’s better than Lake-town used to be. Wood might seem warmer than stone in metaphor, but on the rigid surface of the Long Lake, mornings were a nightmare. At least now when Bard gets up for a mug of water, the floors don’t creak underfoot to wake half the house. 

He pads back to the bedroom in between sips, mentally chiding himself for not buying slippers. He’s used to a tight budget, but he’s the new Master and dating a prince, so surely he can do something for his poor feet. 

He has to pause in the open doorway, because that prince is right where Bard left him. Sprawled across their large bed, Fíli’s facing the wall, the little, square-cut window up above letting the morning light slip in. It washes over Fíli’s succulent skin with a pale glow, highlighting ever peak and valley. Fíli’s kicked the blankets away in Bard’s absence, and it’s left his shapely legs wantonly exposed. 

The rest of him is covered in Bard’s old shirt, reaching down past his thighs and far past his hands. He’s completely engulfed in the cream fabric, his luscious outline obscured in a multitude of folds and wrinkles. His golden hair is a mess across his shoulders and their pillow, braids that Tilda wove in tossed about. There isn’t a single part of him that isn’t striking. Once, Bard might’ve thought dwarves strange creatures, hardly the sort for love affairs with men, but that was before the handsome princeling wandered into his life. Now, he finds something uniquely charming about the stoutness of Fíli’s form, the girth that replaces height, and especially the way he looks so very _precious_ in all of Bard’s clothes. He’s drowning in that old shirt, even when he unconsciously kicks out his legs to stretch. 

He makes a grunting noise in his sleep, fidgeting and rolling his hips, and it pulls the shirt up just enough to uncover the bottom of his rear. Two tight, round cheeks spill out, rosy-pink in the cold. Bard can just make out the small, scruffy balls caught between his thighs, the rest of his prize hidden from Bard’s hungry gaze. 

Bard was going to fetch Fíli to help him prepare breakfast. Now he isn’t so sure. The longer he looks at his pretty lover, the more he salivates. When he takes a step closer to the bed, peering over, he can see just the tips of Fíli’s fingers poking out the ends of the sleeves. His thumbs are still hidden inside. Another moaning noise, and Fíli curls up tighter, drawing his hands towards his face and nuzzling into the pillow, sighing contentedly through his dreams. Sometimes, Bard thinks that even without the new house and new position, all their struggles might’ve been worth it just to wake up to Fíli in the mornings. 

He can’t resist the urge to bend down and peck Fíli’s cheek, even though he knows that Fíli’s developed light sleeping from his troubles on the road. His eyes blearily blink open, and he glances up at Bard, to rub his eyes and murmur groggily, “’Morning, love.”

“Good morning,” Bard softly replies, before pressing another kiss to Fíli’s jaw, right through all the stubble and enjoying the faint scratch. Fíli still smells a little musky from their lovemaking last night; they’ll both need a bath before they wake the children. As Fíli rolls onto his back, making it easier for Bard to lean over him, Bard sighs, “You look beautiful in my clothes.”

“I always look beautiful,” Fíli retorts with a broad grin, which makes Bard laugh and bend in to kiss him, this time on the lips. His breath is stale, but worth every second. When Bard tries to pull away, Fíli grabs his shoulders and won’t let him. He pulls Bard back down to rub their noses together, and he mutters more seriously, “You have comfortable old clothes, even if I’m not typically one for dresses.”

“That was a shirt,” Bard snorts. 

Fíli glances down at himself, bucking up his hips to look at the hemline. Then his eyebrows lift and he shrugs his shoulders with a small, amused, “Oh.” He pauses briefly as his eyes run down Bard’s outfit—another ragged shirt and plain trousers. Then Fíli bites his tongue and coyly asks, “You don’t mind if I forgo your bottoms, do you? I don’t think I’d be able to move in them.”

Bard doesn’t bother to mention that Fíli has his own clothes, tossed about the bedroom though they are. Instead, Bard purrs just above Fíli’s lips, “Not if you allow me to make use of _your_ bottom, I suppose.” Fíli grins brightly, enticingly, and in just about every way Bard could want. He makes another kiss impossible to avoid. 

Bard settles back onto the bed as their lips come together, ready for another late start.


End file.
